


Pornographic Puppetmaster

by LadyElayne



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyElayne/pseuds/LadyElayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHerlock attempts to understand his new found sexual urges for DI Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Master

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta, QuinnAnderson for her assistance and britpicking of this little piece. and for opening up the flood gate! Many thanks! This is my first solo fic...be kind please...if you like it tell me, I might want to continue it :-)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

  


Jesus … that bloody coat! What is it about that coat that gets me going? Some days I don’t really notice, what with work, constantly arguing with the wife and trying to get Anderson to think before he speaks … but then other days … all I see is 6 feet of sex draped in fine wool. Oh … to see him in _only_ that coat … ok, bad thoughts for work _focus_ Lestrade! Watching as the man of my most lurid fantasies walked around the office, spouting his new deductions on a frankly unworthy case was almost like watching a cat circle their prey. Keeping his body in full view, it was like he knew what I was thinking, what I wanted, and did his best to torture me as much as possible.

 

Over the years I haven’t hidden the fact that I find Sherlock to be a mesmerizingly sexual being. I haven’t said anything or even hinted, but there is no way he hasn’t noticed the way I stare at him. One week it will be his hands that my obsessions focus on. Next week it will be that perfect mouth. I purposefully walk into Sherlock’s razor sharp tongue; and dry wit, allowing insults to wash over me with his liquid sex voice. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed by now that I call him in at least once a week regardless of the mystery of a case. I find whatever excuse I can to get him near me. As I said: I’m not trying to hide it.

 

Recently I’ve noticed he is being more overtly sexual, letting his voice deepen occasionally while bowling into my personal space. Being somewhat sexually suggestive, not enough to be obvious, but enough to get random twitches from my increasingly defiant cock. No matter how many times I envision dead puppies or Mrs. Hudson I still can’t control the overwhelming tent that occurs in my trousers each time that man walks into a room. Twice this week alone I have been driven into the office loo for a fast and feverish wank. The first time it was because when Sherlock strode in all eyes and curls I was so enamored with his presence that I didn’t realize he was standing directly behind me. Before I knew what was happening he was softly breathing on my neck under the guise of pulling lint off my suit jacket. Clearing my throat a few times before I was capable of speech I asked, “Sherlock, what are you doing?”. Sadly my voice was a fraction of the strength and determination it usually holds and I could feel the bastard actually smirk before he said,

 

“I know you didn’t call me in to remove lint from your jacket, so Lestrade … what’s stumping you now?” When he said my name, he leaned just close enough to feel his breath on my ear, lowering another octave which went straight to my now throbbing cock. Then, just as fast as it began, it stopped. Backing away he walked around the desk and sat down, he maintained the air of all work and no play; typical Sherlock. After giving him the case file and other specifics of this latest murder I was forced to quickly excuse myself. Practically running to the toilet, I couldn’t get my hand in my trousers fast enough. Slamming the door and locking it I removed my trousers and pants, letting them drop to the floor as I wrapped my strong hands around my already leaking prick. That first grasp was almost monumental. It was like my body was on fire and the only thing that mattered was my hand wrapped tightly around my source of the flame. Teasing myself I rubbed out the perfect rhythm for quickest relief to my problem. Once done I cleaned up and returned to Sherlock and the case file.

 

The second time I was forced into office relief was more of Sherlock’s mind fucking. He seemed to be very interested in seeing how far he could push me without me calling him on his rather odd behavior. Knowing that I had somehow become part of one of his experiments, I simply allowed it to happen. I mean, he was inspiring me daily, making my sex drive more active than it was when I was a teenager, and I fucking _loved_ it. I forgot how great it feels to be so turned on that you can’t think, twitchy to the point of not being able to conceal the need to touch. The man drove me completely insane, and as more and more time passed, I knew beyond any doubt, that he was fully aware of the situation and was pulling the chords on my arousal.

 

About a month after the last time I had to run into the loo for fear of coming in my trousers, Sherlock hadn’t pushed any further. He still stalked into the office looking at me like he was starving and I was his dinner. But he didn’t actually touch me again or position himself close to my ear. Thinking that the experiment was at its end, somewhat saddened by the lack of his constant teasing, I gave up. I stopped calling him in for cases that were below him, I did my best to keep things professional when he did come into check out evidence or abuse Anderson and Donovan. I dropped the whole obsession completely, well. Completely is the wrong word. I still fantasized very often of Sherlock and that bloody brilliant coat, but I didn’t make it obvious at work anymore. Sherlock became just an image I used when wanking, which was still more often than before he stalked into my life. But not like it was when he was giving me very positive feedback.

 

After wrapping up a particularly hard case, I was looking forward to sitting at home with beer and football, blocking out the horrific crime that I had solved earlier—without Sherlock I might add. Just sitting down, getting comfortable in my cozy flat of course my mobile rings. Groaning at the possibilities I looked and it was Sherlock; actually calling me, not a text as usual causing my stomach to plummet. “He never calls me … Oh God. He’s been arrested,” I say aloud before picking up my phone.

 

         “What’s wrong Sherlock? What happened?” I say apprehensively into the phone, afraid to hear what his latest complaint could be.

“ _Nothing,_ Lestrade”, Sherlock practically keens into the phone; oh God… _that_ voice…

“I was just wondering if you had a case that you might _need_ me for yet” hearing Sherlock say the word need as though it was dripping in sin was enough to wake up my cock, but the heavy breath he took after requesting a case did me in. Springing into action I quickly became overwhelmed with images of Sherlock lying in bed, purple shirt draped over his shoulders, but unbuttoned all the way down. His trousers and pants pushed under his balls and heavy cock while he held the phone in one hand and his beautiful manhood in the other. Shivering at the image I nearly dropped the phone. Collecting myself I cleared my throat, and brought the phone back to my ear, “No Sherlock, not tonight. I just closed a case this afternoon, and I just want to relax, yeah? I’ll take a look and call you tomorrow.” Feeling that this was the end of our conversation, cock waning, I go to hang up and I hear, “ _Wait_ ” from Sherlock’s end, said in the deeper octave that drew lust from me, making me crave his next word.

 

“What do you need?” I tried to disguise the lust in my voice with concern, but it ended up coming out much deeper than I was expecting, almost an echo of Sherlock’s beautiful tone. I hear what I thought to be a soft moan and it causes me to unwillingly arch my back and throw my head against the back of the sofa. I hear a small laugh through his deep exhale as Sherlock speaks, “What do I need…” deep sigh…”I need you, _Greg…”_ what he didn’t sexually imply, was stated with the deep shuttering exhale that followed this declaration.

 

Completely stunned I had no idea where this was actually going. I knew where I very much hoped it would go; I saw it ending in fantastic shagging. However, since Sherlock very rarely knows the sex appeal he is constantly inspiring in others. I respond in the most generic way I knew how. “You need me for what exactly? Some new experi- wait … Greg … you called me Greg …”

 

“Yes...I did…how very astute of you Lestrade…I need to know why I can’t seem to get you out of my head; my very being seems to _need_ you, to be in your proximity. It’s a puzzle I can’t understand. I tried to experiment with the reactions I had to being as close to you as I could without diverting from my normal behavior. But no matter how close I was, I still needed more, my body _needed_ to be tight against yours…I wanted quite desperately to feel your hands on me, anywhere on me really, just as long as you touched me I thought I would be satisfied.” Another deep frustrating sigh from Sherlock just put an exclamation on his point; he wanted me, a man who never _needed_ anyone now suddenly needs me.

 

The feeling was over whelming; my whole body suddenly shook with desire. The only thing I could think of was touching Sherlock as he described. Rubbing my hands across his lithe form, fingers carding though those luscious curls, touching his soft lips… good GOD Lestrade get it together! Not even realizing it as my mind was lost in the wanting for Sherlock I was slowly pressing my hand over my terribly heavy erection. Jesus…I’m having phone sex with Sherlock bloody Holmes... Didn’t see that happening in my future, that’s for sure! However, if I was ever going to have phone sex, it would most definitely be best with a man like Sherlock, he could read _Mary Had A Little Lamb_ and make it erotic.

 

Coming back into the reality that had somehow mimicked my fantasies, I asked “So then…what would you like to do about this _need_ Sherlock.” My voice came out deep and heavy with lust that I abruptly decided not to hide or disguise. “If you needed to feel me next to you, then wouldn’t a visit be more appropriate than a phone call?” I somewhat expected Sherlock to hang up and either rush to my flat or feel embarrassed by his confession and avoid all contact for a bit. But what I didn’t expect was his reply.

 

“I thought about that, and it occurred to me that I don’t exactly know if the feeling I have is exactly what you think it is, so another experiment is actually needed.”

 

“Sherlock! I’m not some bloody variable you can just toy with! If you want me come and get me, I’m really too tired for anything else.” Seriously considering hanging up and just having a quick wank, I tried very hard to ignore the sudden silence on the other end of the line. Just as I was beginning to think he had hung up he responds quietly, “But I trust you to help me understand _why_ I can’t handle this on my own. I have tried almost everything I can think of to just get it out of my system so I can get back to the cases; but nothing seems to be working!” My curiosity is piqued for certain, and I am now trying to figure out if he is batting around the issue of arousal, or if it’s something more… _Sherlock_ that I am dealing with.

 

“Ok, calm down, I hate it when you whine like that. What is it that you have tried so far, so that I will know what you might have in mind for the next step in this experiment?”

 

“As I stated, I have tried getting into your physical proximity and see if it helps; I have tried to coerce you into touching me, but as always you were not _paying attention_ and therefore never actually touched me. I have even go so far as to spend long moments in my bed, thinking of what your hands must feel like all over my body, living in the thoughts of it until I-“

 

“Wait, Sherlock, are you saying that you want me, sexually…that you were… _wanking_ while thinking of me…?” Yup…that woke my cock up to full strength…to think of all those times when I was compelled to ease my frustrations by self-abuse at the office…Sherlock was doing something similar. Well, that’s…new. Before I give him time to become embarrassed, just in case it might affect him in that way, I quickly jump right into the deep end, “I find it very interesting that you were thinking of me while touching yourself…you have to be aware that I have been picturing you in a similar way.” To avoid my own embarrassment at having phone sex at middle age, I continue, lust coming once again to deepen my words. “There have been times at the office where you were so close to me that it took every ounce of my will power not to throw you up against the wall and devour you. Sadly however, I thought you were off limits…so I was forced to take matters into my own hands...as it were.” Hoping that the cheesy joke would soften any unease this confession may cause, I wait on the other end, hoping that Sherlock follows through. Otherwise, tomorrow is going to be a very uncomfortable day.

 

Hearing a very slow, almost pleased exhale, Sherlock’s throaty voice comes back, completely soaked in sin,” – “So then…the next part of the experiment would be for us to please ourselves…but have some part of each other in the room as we do it. Since I don’t know if am ready to physically be in your proximity; phone sex seemed to be the next step.”

 

Puffing out a small laugh, “well I kind of thought we were already doing that”

 

“Well _Greg,_ at least one of us is” taking a deep sigh, Sherlock lets out a short moan that went right from my ear to my cock. Quickly raising my heartbeat and sending my impossibly hard cock a jolt, causing it to scream for attention.

 

 “Jesus Sherlock…you are impossibly arousing, you know that?” switching my phone into my left hand, I slowly let my right hand drift down my torso. Lightly rubbing and scratching my nipples; I tilt my head back, take a deep breath and reach down into my straining trousers and pants to release my tortured prick. The cool air in the room is exhilarating as it hits the fiery flesh, coaxing a moan from me that was much louder than expected.

 

“Damn, Lestrade…You aren’t so bad either…So tell me, when you were driven to taking matters into your own hands as you put it, what were you imagining exactly?”

 

Ok, fine, he wants it like that does he, no give and take with Sherlock is there…well let’s see how serious he really is about this little infatuation.

 

“Well, the first time I was so taken with you that I had to actually escape to the restroom, it was your coat. Well more specifically, you in the coat…in _nothing_ but the coat. Keeping it unbuttoned of course, I could just imagine how wonderful your skin would look against the wool, just peeking out amidst the darkness. How the satin lining must feel against your skin was you walked around, sat down and eventually laid back upon it. I would have you laid across my desk for me to inspect, admire and seduce. Like unwrapping a present I would slowly slide the coat away from your body, letting it fall to the side of your frame. Then starting from your shoulders, I would lightly trace the outline of your rather obvious collar bones”

 

“Now it’s my turn to be ridiculously aroused… You really thought about this?” Sherlock says.

 

It’s rather obvious from the heavy breathing and slight moaning that Sherlock was most definitely touching himself while I was talking. But with his last statement it seems that he isn’t just interested in the phone sex…He needs to be wanted by me, just as I need to be wanted by him. I never realized how arousing it would be to have Sherlock weaken for me… _me_ …but God I really need to make this good so that I can actually make him weak in person and watch those eyes as he comes.

 

“Of course I have thought about this, you are breathtaking, I’m pretty sure at one point or another half of my squad has thought of you while having a wank. But they never see you as I do, yes you are a very beautiful body, and mind of course, but they have never seen the slight glimpses of the man I know is in there. And the real you, the one that called me tonight, who craves my attention, is the one I want so passionately. Thinking of how beautiful you would be laid before me, waiting to be pleased, and then taking you apart with my body has always been a fantasy of mine. I want to hear you tremble and shake and feel you moan into my mouth before screaming my name.” letting out my breath slowly, so as not to let on that what I said was not just the truth, but something I had guarded since I first laid eyes on Sherlock all those years ago. Yes, I have wanted him since day one; I have needed to see him aroused, and blissed out. But most importantly I needed to see him happy, preferably, happy with me. But…first things first, if he is just now experiencing the attraction I can’t jump into things too quickly. If all he wants is attention and sex, I would prefer that I am the one to give it to him, who knows who or _what_ he would do if I turned him down – not that I would.

 

“I don’t know that I am a screamer Lestrade”

 

“That’s because you haven’t had me, _yet_ …” letting him think that over I punctuate my sentence with a throaty moan at the image of making him scream…oh god...that would be enough to make me come right then. Backing off my cock, I work my way scratching and clawing up to my nipples once more.

 

“Ok, in your thoughts of me on your desk, after divesting me of my coat, what is your next idea?” Sherlock asks then releases the most erotic shudder I’ve ever heard. It was like I could feel the breath of it right against my throbbing cock.

 

“Hmm, well I would mostly just memorize your body with my hands. Running my fingers over every inch of that milky torso, lightly tickling you with my nails, watching the goose bumps and chills of need wash over you”. Shuttering while touching my own flesh, I begin to draw my hands over my chest in the way I would so love to do to Sherlock. “As I slowly take in your chest and belly, I would move down to your hip bones, lightly clawing down to your inner thigh, watching your cock struggle for my attentions. Using both hands while positioned between your knees, feet handing over the edge of the desk, I lightly breathe on to the tip of your arousal. I watch as a bead of precome leaks out. Quickly I drop low and swipe the milky liquid from your hot flesh. So quick it takes you a second to realize what happened and by then I’m dragging my hands up your inner thigh and back across your hipbone.”

 

“Oooh God…you are terribly good at this…you are making me rethink this experiment, I should have just shown up”

 

“Oh, but that’s the point Sherlock, you wanted to know what I would do, to see if it helps the need within you, sadly I think this may make it worse. But all the better for me, because just phone sex will never be enough, I need to touch you, taste you, feel the heat from your body pressed up against mine, I want nothing more than to feel your tongue explore my body and mine taste that smooth flesh”. Hearing Sherlock’s breathing get a bit more heated, his voice getting raspier and I never thought this possible, but more erotic. I take my aching cock in my hand wrapping my fingers around it firmly and make one long stroke from root to tip, swiping the accumulated precome and using it to slicken up my straining erection as I begin pulling in earnest. My cool hand wrapped around the hot flesh sends shivers up and down my spine. My breathing hitches and knowing just how hot Sherlock must look right now, all splayed out on his bed, his long nimble fingers wrapped around his leaking cock… a tortured moan escapes. “God Sherlock…I have wanted you for so long, I swear I will get my hands on that body and set every nerve on fire, I will please you in ways you never even thought of. I want to feel every part of you,  your flesh on my hands, your hips held between my legs, your cock buried deep down my throat—“

 

"Ooooh...Greg…I want that, too….” Letting out a breathy moan, I can hear Sherlock on the other end moaning and groaning. Each sound going straight to my aching crotch, cock throbbing under my swift hand, balls tightening, even my tight ass is craving this man. Feeling the slight tingle of orgasm begging to climb up my cock I abruptly stop, I _need_ to make Sherlock come first.

 

“I want to feel the hot heavy flesh between your legs growing hard for me, the taste of your sweet salty skin as you push it into my mouth. I need to know those soft curls as they tickle my nose as I take you as deep as possible, swallowing your prick down. I want your hand tugging my hair, pulling me tighter against your throbbing cock, shoving it even further down my throat. I want you to fuck my mouth Sherlock, I want to hear you moan for me as my tongue slowly teases and taunts the underside of your shaft. Oh god Sherlock…I want to taste and swallow every drop of you”

 

“Ooooh Jesus Greg…oh my god... You sound so hot right now…I wish I was there watching as you pleased yourself, knowing it was me you were thinking of swallowing. Hhnng oh GOD GREG! Oh Jesus! FUCK!” Hearing Sherlock’s beautiful cries would have been more than enough to push me over the edge into orgasmic oblivion, but such common primal language coming from such a sophisticated mouth was more than I could take.

 

“Oh GOD Sherlock…oh FUCK…mmmmmmmhhh…” Moaning and arching my back as my body falls into orgasm, I become lost in the power of it all. Sherlock’s words and fantasies mirroring my own, him needing the same thing I have desired for ages it seems. My body trembling as the edges of reality comes back into focus, realizing that I had the phone in a death grip; I cleaned off my hand and sensitive cock, placing it back inside my pants and trousers. Taking the phone back in my dominant hand I hear Sherlock’s shuddering breath and I can only imagine how this must feel for someone who hasn’t allowed anyone in for such a long time.

 

            “Oh Sherlock, that was amazing, the only thing that could make that better would be if I could wrap my arms around you now, ease your shuddering blissed out body and kiss you deeply to remind you that we have only just started…”

 

Sherlock was laughing like a giddy child, and I knew I had said exactly what he needed to hear, I was beyond pleased with myself, letting the bliss wash over me. Smiling so widely that I knew I must look stupid, I was somewhat thankful Sherlock couldn’t see me, but I still wished I could wrap my arms around him.

 

“So, did the experiment help at all?” Hoping that Sherlock intended to try this again or maybe go up a notch and actually get a bit physical, I froze.

 

“Well Detective Inspector…I believe that the results are inconclusive… That was exactly what I wanted, but I find myself still needing more… despite our actions just a moment ago, I’m still wrought with desire for your hands to be on me, in me and all around me.”

 

“Jesus Sherlock…you’re going to be the death of me.”

 

“Give me twenty minutes and I will let you find out if I am in fact…a screamer” Sherlock whispers, all liquid sin and dripping passion once more. Then abruptly hangs up the phone. Jumping to life it occurs to me that he may really be coming over…to my flat. Right now…OH GOD… taking a moment to straighten up and make sure I’m fully stocked on condoms and lube, you never can be too prepared right? I jump in the shower and wait for Sherlock.

 

 

 

 


	2. Tugging the Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock arrives at Greg's for a continuation of their earlier chat, only to find that things are a bit different than either of them expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> per the request of several of my lovely readers, i decided to continue this and take it to the next level. there is a bit more fluff than i was originally intending, but i think it worked out! as always, porny good times!  
> \many thanks to my Beta Quinn Anderson and to all those who left me comments and suggestions.... some of which led to the creation of a few more tales that involve the sexy voice that is Sherlock and Lestrade...

  Allowing the water to warm up, I run around tidying up my flat a bit. Cleaning…for Sherlock of all people, ok, never mind about that then, so I just clear off the various, possibly useful surfaces that I have. As much as I would like for us to be comfortable and take our time with this, you never know what will happen until I open the door. Let’s see … “coffee table, well, too low” … no need to clear that but I do take care of the couch. Kitchen table, already clean, good work past Lestrade! Bed … well that’s … “clean enough”. Tearing my clothes off I jump into the now scalding shower. Letting the water flow down my chest and drip from my now swelling cock, Sherlock’s overly arousing voice claws its way back into my head. _“’_ _“Ooooh...Greg…I want that, too….’”_ , followed by an unbelievable moan that still makes my stomach jump and my prick ache. Jesus…does he know exactly how profoundly _hot_ he is? Rubbing my soapy hands over my body I start to think of how Sherlock’s hands will soon feel. How his long soft fingers will feel on my hot skin, wrapped around my shoulders, clawing at my back. All very familiar desires, I’ve had them off and on for years now.

 

Ever since the day that man fell into my life, or seductively strode as it were. I had developed a rather healthy fantasy life. Sherlock was always bitchy and brash, but that was part of it, he could just come in, take what he wanted and go. I had always enjoyed the idea of him using me for his _experiments_ , expanding his knowledge in an area he may not have enough data in. I wanted so much to teach him, learn from him and explore every aspect of those possibilities; and I did, nearly every day since … in my head.

 

I have always enjoyed the want in a fantasy, the mystery of it all; the object of your desires is always perfect and sensual. Sadly in life, it tends to turn out far lower on the satisfaction scale, especially if your fantasies are as intricate as mine tend to be. I have always thought that Sherlock would have to be as flawless under those tight clothes as he is in them, long thick and gorgeous when erect. These wondering thoughts have of course brought my cock to full attention, until a very depressing thought occurs to me; what if he isn’t? His clothes may be tight, and there is no disguising that perfect arse, but what if he is awkward and unsure? “Bugger” puffing out an incredulous laugh, “No. _Not. Bloody. Likely_!” He will be stunning, won’t matter much even if he isn’t up to the size my fantasy has decided to give him. As long as I have thought about this, I will be too overwhelmed with desire … if he is unsure…well then I will just have to fix that wont I?

 

Realizing that in a few very short, _hopefully_ short, minutes he will be here, touching, moaning, and screaming; good GOD! … This is the last time I get to have the comfort of the fantasy. I have wanted him for so very long; I am going to have to pace myself on this. That man is way too capable of having me come in my pants like a teenager. But, oh how great would that feel, just to come from hearing that voice, watching his body move beneath me, seeing how his muscles contract and jump as I take his hard cock deep down m-. Jumping I hear the door to the apartment close, “dammit” that man broke in again! I rinse and turn off the water, getting out and quickly wrapping a towel around my hips. God, that better be Sherlock, it wouldn’t be good for some drugged up kid to break in my flat right now, coming across a half-naked, very wet, extremely aroused copper.

 

Once in the bed room, the flat is completely silent. “Sherlock, is that you?” I tried to be loud and somewhat commanding in case it isn’t actually Sherlock stalking around in the dark.

 

“Of course it’s me Lestrade; what did you think some doped up kid was trying a little B&E while you were in the shower?”  Taking a breath I turned around,

 

 “Yes, of course it’s what I thought, why the hell would you just break in and not announce yourself in some way, that’s a good way to get sh- … “Oh … My … GOD….” He is wearing the coat. Looking over at Sherlock sitting in the chair at the foot of my bed was quite possibly, the _one_ image I may never recover from. Shrouded in shadow, he sat swallowed up by that sexy wool cocoon. His hands were deep in the pockets, hair wet, from what might be the fastest shower possible, and his toes impatiently curling into the carpet. Wait … his _toes_? Following his long legs up, I saw that they were so delightfully pale and beautiful and … _bare_.

 

“Oh good God Sherlock…are you naked under there?” A mix between exasperation and arousal caused my voice to crack a bit. As if reading my mind, of course he was reading my mind. He just looked at me and his features slowly changed from calm and indifferent to sly and sensual; cocking his grin to one side, his left eye brow raised in defiant dare. He slowly lifted his hands from his pockets and unbuttoned the top button of his coat, lowering his lapels to reveal the expanse of neck I have always enjoyed seeing from his usual disrespect for fully buttoning his shirts. But knowing that under the coat, he was at least mostly naked, the air seemed to all of a sudden become thick. My head became dizzy and I immediately fell to sit on the bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off that small bit of flesh at the top of his chest. I had seen that small patch every day for years now, either in person, or fantasy, and now it was taunting me from across my own bedroom. Tugging at my cock with his seductive strings, begging for him to reveal just a bit more flesh. I drag my gaze from his majestic fingers just long enough to see the lust in his eyes, staring at me just as he had when taunting me in my office. God this man just tugs and tugs on my soul. Swallowing the lump that had gathered in my throat I stood up and began to walk towards him.

 

“No, Lestrade, stay there, I want to watch you. I _need_ to see how you look at me”, taking a deep breath “now … that you … know.” I could hear the concern in his voice as he seemed to shrink in on himself; drawing the darkness around him without making a move. It tore my heart in two knowing that he was even the slightest bit concerned at how our phone conversation may have changed how I saw him. So, I sat as close as he would allow, perched right on the edge of the bed in front of him. I decided that if only for tonight, I would allow him to see every thought that crossed my mind. Even if those thoughts ended up going to the more… romantic side of my feelings for him. I would risk it, I could take the heartache of him walking away from me, but at this point, I don’t think he could take me denying him.

 

Staring deep into his eyes and doing my best to remove all traces of lust from my voice, “Ok Sherlock … deduce away, everything I said and did earlier was truthful, I want you; I have always wanted you, and you know bloody well the effect you sitting there, still untouchable is having on me. But torture away, I will let you see whatever you need to. If you get to any point where it’s too much, I will understand Sherlock, but I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Sherlock briefly closed his eyes with an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief. When he opened them however, the cocky master of my lustful strings had returned. All crooked grin and flying fingers, he traveled his torso slowly unbuttoning each button. Not moving any of the hateful wool blocking what my cock most desired, just leaving them undone. Leaning forward a bit, my towel now had come untied, reminding me of how naked I was, in a room, with _Sherlock_ … A very visible chill went down my spine causing my skin to pebble, my nipples to harden and my cock to strain beneath the thin layer of terry cloth. I watched as his hands slowly grazed the seams of his coat, lightly pushing them apart enough for me to get a glimpse of one uninterrupted inch of beautiful skin, from neck to… oh fuck…he _is_ naked under there! I let out a small moan as my mouth began to water at the sight of this unwrapped treasure. The beautiful dark curls at the base of his cock glistening in the dim light of the bedroom. All I could see was the base of his shaft laying up against his lithe abdomen before it was shrouded in that damn coat once more. My mouth watering in need, I licked my lips and let out a shuddering breath.

 

My towel had become a bit snug, so I shifted a bit, pulling it just over my lap, relieving the tension. Which of course allowed Sherlock to really _see_ all that he was doing to me, how my body was responding to his, and how badly I wanted to just rip that fucking coat open and shove his cock down my throat. My whole body felt like it was pulsing along with the beat of my heart, my cock becoming hard and needy I tilted my head a bit, hoping to get a glimpse of just a bit more of Sherlock’s beautiful body.

 

“All in time _Greg_ … I have wanted you for longer than even I was aware of, and that towel is killing me almost as much as I’m sure my coat is killing you. I want nothing more than to rip it off your lap to see what’s been hiding from me all these years. But since you were so obliging about my phone sex experiment, I figured this was a good trade. I’m not on your desk of course, but, very soon you will be able to _detect, inspect and admire_ me all you like.” Saying those words back to me, each one sounding as though they were leaking from his cock itself, so heated and arousing to hear his voice drop so low it took every ounce of my will power to allow sit still. Taking a deep breath, I shuddered; “Go on then …” a deep throaty laugh from Sherlock filled the room with even more sexual tension and frustration. My skin is crawling with need, inching closer and closer to the edge of the bed I was watching unblinking as Sherlock slides his hands in his pockets. Shifting his position he lays back more in the chair; his legs spreading and placing his feet flat on the floor in front of him. His knees just barely grazing mine, tickling me as he spreads his legs a bit wider and slowly pulls the damnable coat back away from his body, draping the sides over the chair.

 

My eyes focused so hard on his body that everything around him became dark and unimportant. His body was absolutely perfect, letting out a breath I really had no intention of holding I released a loud moan at the now unveiled masterpiece before me. An absolute vision from my fantasy, his skin was completely flawless, pale as the moon and nearly as luminous. With the exception of the patch of perfectly trimmed hair at his groin, he was devoid of any other fuzz, save a slight scattering around each nipple and down his legs and forearms. His collar bone cast a perfect shadow down his chest, the darkness sharpening the definition in his chest and torso. His thighs were soft and supple, but conveyed a sturdy strength I knew him to have, and nestled a top those beautiful thighs was the most beautiful prick I had ever laid eyes on. I had never really considered a penis to be _beautiful_ before, arousing and attractive, yes. But Sherlock was somewhat appallingly endowed and frighteningly beautiful. Large, smooth and powerful, the glistening head sat just to the left and about an inch higher than his navel, it had to be the shadow that was making it seem so large, but it was most definitely causing my body to crave him even more than I ever did in my fantasies. My mouth watered and my cock twitched sending a very pleasant tingle up my spine and even my arse contracted at the split second it registered that I wanted that stiff prick deep inside me.

 

I wanted all of my senses to be over indulged by all that was Sherlock. I needed to hear him moan and see him writhe. Taste his flesh, his tongue, that perfect cock. He was making my own manhood strain for attention to the point of agony as I just took in his perfect form. Sliding his arms from the coat, he began to brush his inner thighs with his long fingers. Tilting his head back but still looking at me through his full lashes as he blinked slowly.

 

“ _Lestrade_ … I can’t explain this sudden need …  my body craves your touch, your skin against mine, your tongue in my mouth, and your lips all over my flesh… “Taking a deep breath as his hands grazed over his straining cock he moaned, deep and thick. My whole body was trembling as I watched him move his hands over his body, slowly drinking in the feel of his own form. His eyes held me in place, a mere foot away from joining his hands on that seductive frame, I could feel the heat pouring from him; beckoning me. I sat completely dumbfounded watching Sherlock with my jaw hanging open. He was pulling out every kink I have with each moment, he knew I loved his voice, his hands, the thought and image of him touching himself … GOD!

 

The sounds of my heavy breath jumping from my body filled the room, waking me up from my stupor, “Holy hell Sherlock, I knew you were gorgeous under those suits, but I had no idea you would be quite this stunning, you are fucking beautiful!” A soft blush crept up his chest and neck adding to the beauty of his alabaster skin. As Sherlock drug his nails up his own torso he arched his back into them, his head falling back as a soft gasp escaped those perfect lips when he touched his hard nipples. His long thick cock dancing against his taught abdomen, the tip glistening as a bead of pre come gathered at the tip.

 

I was no longer able to restrain myself, gliding to the floor I slid between his parted legs on my knees; my hands resting on each of his inner thighs. That first touch was exhilarating, imagining how he had touched himself just before and I felt him jump as the heat from my hand mingled with the warmth of his skin. “Hnng…God…Lestrade….” Sherlock said breathlessly.  I took his lack of movement as a sign to continue, tasting that flesh with the tip of my tongue. Like coffee and cloves, sandalwood and _Sherlock_ , his salty flesh made my mouth water. I could smell his arousal, musk and sex; in the heat coming from his straining cock and tight balls; it was intoxicating. Leaving open mouth kisses up his thigh I dipped my head and put my tongue just under his heavy balls, teasing his smooth perineum and then slowly licked up the seam and all the way to the tip of his exquisite cock. I quickly slid its moist tip into my mouth and down my throat. Priding myself on my ability to deep throat, I was still taken aback at exactly how much of Sherlock I was able to get into my mouth. My body shudders and convulses … it wasn’t the shadow, he really is that thick. He felt so good in mouth, full and pulsing against my tongue I let out a moan around his lovely manhood. I knew that his tip was positioned just next to my voice. Sherlock’s breathing stopped and then his exhale filled the room with the most erotic noise I had heard all night. A mix between a growl and a moan his hands immediately went to my hair and neck, holding me softly in place as my tongue, cheeks and throat massaged and sucked on his swollen prick. I slowly lifted up, releasing him from my mouth to watch his eyes as I sunk back down, finally taking him to the hilt. He moaned and looked deep into my eyes with a fascination I had only seen at the hands of one of Moriarty’s schemes. His seductive eyes taking me in as my tongue slid over his shaft, a beautiful crease formed between his eyebrows as his lips parted a bit, breathing heavily. He rose his hips up towards my mouth and shoved himself deeper down my throat completely cutting off my air supply. Softly moaning at the tightness of my throat, the sight of fucking my face caused him to throw his head back. The sounds of his unabashed arousal going straight to my trembling prick as I continued to stroke and fondle his hard member.

 




Despite my own crushing needs, I would have been perfectly happy to spend the evening pleasing Sherlock with every part of my body, not concerning myself with my own uncomfortable arousal. Making certain that he knew how arousing, seductive and beautiful I think he is. I wanted him to have no doubts to how much I had been longing for this moment, how painfully I _needed_ him to allow me inside his mind, his body, his very soul. Sherlock was everything I wanted to be and be with. The only man to ever understand me completely, make me crave and long for him in ways I had never even considered in previous lovers. Opening my eyes I felt his hand slid from my neck and cupped my cheek; I had never seen such a look on his face before. Gone was the lust and carnal desire, replaced with… a softer, adoration almost. It was obvious to me that despite the pleasure I knew was rushing through his body, he was still at war with his mind. I could see the adoration in his eyes and at first I thought it was because I was able to get his massive manhood down my throat, but it was much more than that. I saw the years we had spent together, the laughed and turmoil we had shared. I saw _Sherlock_ ; the man I knew was in there, the good man he tried to hide from the world. In a matter of milliseconds all of this played across his features, and it seemed that he came to a conclusion he wasn’t exactly prepared to face, or admit.

 

I had become completely stunned at the depth of emotion I saw lingering in those profound pools, I stopped all movement. His eyes dancing before me and with almost shock I realized that he was tearing up. Softly sliding his cock from my mouth I rose up full on my knees, I slid my hands behind his shoulders, pulling him close to me. Putting our foreheads together we just sat there, our eyes closed, breathing heavily, drunk on each other’s presence. After a few minutes of shuddering silence, I pulled back to look into his eyes again. The tears were now leaking from his full lashes, but there wasn’t a hint of sadness behind those green-grey panes. It was unmistakable; Sherlock was overwhelmed with adoration … for _me_.

 

My heart nearly leapt from my chest and I found my own eyes burning and tearing up. Puffing out a light laugh I pulled Sherlock in and without a word to break our moment I kissed him with every fiber of my being. I poured my feelings for him unfiltered into that kiss. Expressing my love, respect, desire and admiration with every flick of my tongue, every part of my lips and hitch in my breath. I felt Sherlock trembling under my hands, his skin shaking and shuddering at this discovery as he returned every declaration of love with bottomless passion. His hands were roaming my body, pulling me tighter against his chest. My fingers lost in his hair, holding firm onto his neck and then drifting down around his arm to press against his back. Our tongues teased and taunted one another, never fully touching, sending sparks into each other with the temptation and awe we felt.

 

Pulling apart at the same time, gasping for air we rested briefly, gazing into one another’s eyes. The tears were still flowing from Sherlock silently, and without thinking, I slowly licked them off his sharp cheekbones and soft eye lashes. Kissing his eyelids, I held his face in my hands and looked deep into him, “Jesus … why didn’t we do this sooner? How could we have not known … not … noticed that it was so much more?”

 

“You tell me, _Detective_   ... “Sherlock said, slightly sarcastically then letting out a small laugh. “I have an excuse; this is my first time with something like this … what’s yours?” Softly bringing my lips back to his, sliding them delicately across his, kissing him without an ounce of lust in my heart, it was love in its purest form, and I poured it into him with each breath. Pulling back, “This is a first for me as well … nothing before can hold a candle to this, to this moment … to _you_.” I was overcome with the need to voice this, I had to know that I wasn’t just lost in desire, that he was as lost in me as I was in him, that it _was_ love … “Sherlock, I know how you hate hearing the obvious, but I have to say this … “ feeling his body tense up tight against mine, tried very hard to breathe, it had been years since I had ever even said the word love to another, and to love Sherlock of all people could end with me in misery. But he _had_ to hear this, even if he didn’t actually feel the same way.

 

 “… It would seem … that I am hopelessly in lo-“I wasn’t able to finish because Sherlock abruptly kissed me, deep and desperately. I could feel his torso shaking and trembling as he led me to my feet. Clutching on to my lower back and cradling my skull he softly entered my mouth, kissing me so passionately I lost my footing and we both landed on the bed on our sides. The tumble forced our lips apart briefly and he slid up and casually draped one leg over my hip. His left hand reaching around my head again to pull me into another heated kiss, I wrapped one arm tight around his waist and the other slid perfectly between his shoulder and head. Pulling back at the last minute I realized that his tears were coming much quicker now, his whole body crying softly. “Oh … God … Sherlock … I’m … “Exhaling deeply I was at a complete loss for words. I mean what exactly can be said at this point? There was really nothing to say, so I just turned his head up towards me, “Look at me”. After a quiet moment, he opened his eyes and looked deep into mine. A color I hadn’t seen reflected before, a deep grass green, so beautiful it left me breathless. My hand brushing the side of his face, clearing tears away with my thumb. Trying to wrap my mind around this odd but beautiful turn of events, an icy fear trickled down my spine. If he had never felt like this before, could that be because he hasn’t been in this position before? I mean I had several previous lovers, a few of which I can even say I loved, but nothing like this, nothing even close to how I feel for Sherlock. Once again, he was able to read my mind. “Greg … I have had a few serious relationships, this isn’t … I mean … I’m not a … _bugger_!” Relief washed over me, Sherlock at a loss for words was quite a sight, but I got enough to understand that our feelings were matched.

Sighing I just shook my head while looking at his concerned expression. His tears had dried away now, but there seemed to be a slight fear in his eyes. “I can understand why you were so confused about this feeling you developed for me, I was quite confused myself at first. It’s real Sherlock… very real … and I am all yours for as long as you will have me”. I really didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but it’s out now. I was rewarded with a very passionate, very sexy detective wrapped tightly around me. This kiss though spiced with tears and desperation was amazing. _He_ was amazing, pulling my hips tight against his with his leg wrapped around my back I could feel our waning erections spark back to life. Grinding together softly we just kissed and rubbed our bodies against one another for what seemed like hours.

 

As our passions began to overwhelm us, we were reminded of how this all began in the first place, God … that _coat_. Moaning at the image of him touching himself again, he pulled back and breathlessly said, “My turn”. I was completely at a loss for what he meant, until he sat up and laid back against the pillows. I began to sit up as well to join him, but he stopped me with one look, “It’s _my_ turn, I want to see you, see what you have been hiding under those _boring_ suits all this time”. Smiling at his ability to continue to goad me, I sat back on my elbows near the foot of the bed, extending my legs to either side of his and allowed him to massage me with those obsessive eyes.

 

I could feel every inch of where that gaze landed, he began with my shoulders and slowly his eyes took in my chest and toned stomach. Thank you football once a week! I may not be as fit as I once was, but I wasn’t showing too much loss in muscle tone. His eyes ignored my heavy manhood and slid down my hard thighs and calf’s before crawling back up to take in the center of his interests. Sherlock wasn’t the only one who could read minds, he always saved what perplexed him most for the last thing his eyes took in. Allowing his brain to completely deduce, inspect and admire it without other things getting in the way.

 

Spreading my legs a bit, I allowed him to caress me with his eyes, the intensity causing him to lean forward. He wet his lips and bit his bottom lip before crouching over me on all fours. His movements were playing against my throbbing cock as though he was grasping it himself. As he came forward towards me more, it danced on my stomach and bobbed in his direction. Looking into my eyes he crawled just above the tip of my aching prick, and then swiftly took it between those lush lips all the way to the hilt. Never taking his eyes from mine I arched into him and threw my head back onto the bed. “Holy FUCK Sherlock … hnnngg“. The things he was doing with his amazing tongue gave away the fact that this was most certainly not the first time he has sucked cock; but Jesus FUCK! Reaching a hand into his curls I felt his perfect mouth sucking and worshipping my manhood. That hot tongue was twisting and writhing against my shaft, the head, along the crease at the tip … _in_ the crease. “Hhnng … OH…oh my GOD … Sherlock! STOP!” holy shit …holy fuck … damn…damn…DAMN… that man was way too good at that.

 

Thankfully I was able to pull myself together enough to open my eyes. Without me noticing, Sherlock had moved, and was hovering with his lips just over mine. The moment I opened my eyes, he dove in. The kiss was frantic, all tongue and lips and teeth, we couldn’t seem to get our tongues deep enough, our lips tight enough together. It was feverish and it felt amazing. I pulled Sherlock down on top of me, his thighs straddling me while our cocks were pushed together wonderfully between our hot bodies. My hand touching, clawing and groping everything I could reach, specifically the back of his head.

 

Grabbing a handful of his dark hair I pulled a bit, somewhat accidentally and I felt his hard prick twitch as he moaned deeply into my mouth. He stopped nearly all other movement as I pulled again, his lips froze just over mine, and his eyes closed but his face an expression of sheer passion. Closing my hand around a larger chunk of hair I brought up my other hand and fisted the other side of his head then arched my back and pulled as I drove my hips hard into his. His moan was electric, shooting jolts of passion into my brain, my stomach curled up and my cock began to leak. I could feel that mine wasn’t the only leaking member in the room as our swollen pricks slid much easier between our bodies. Sherlock let out a trembling breath, then opened his eyes and once again I saw wonder and admiration in them, giving him that cocky smile he so liked to give others, I pulled him back into a deep kiss.

 

Our bodies writhing together, leaking and providing such exquisite lubrication was mirrored in the way our tongues teased and taunted one another’s. His thick manhood curved in such a way that it nearly wrapped around mine like a tentacle. I could feel both of our heavy groins swell and tighten, the tingle of orgasm crawling its way up my cock. “No, not like this … “I said into his soft mouth. Sherlock pulled back up on his hands and knees and crawled down to put my cock in his mouth. As much as I would love to come down that talented throat, my soul demanded something more. My body craved that beautiful prick burning deep inside me, looking into his eyes, feeling his mouth against mine. I wanted to feel him come inside me, feel it fill me up.

 

Sitting up on my elbows again, “Sherlock … I want you inside me”. Fuck seemed the wrong word for the moment, because regardless of how hard or fast we ever penetrated or pleasured each other, it would never be just fucking. I could feel the swell of my heart all the way through my stomach at that revelation. Looking at Sherlock’s expression he looked almost, scared again. “What’s wrong luv?” It just slipped out… I didn’t really mean to say it like that, but he really looked troubled. He sat back on his heels and looked down at his swollen member. “I don’t … want to hurt you … topping hasn’t gone very well for me in the past”. Smiling I sat up to wrap him in my arms, “don’t worry, I will take care of everything, you won’t hurt me, trust me. I have wanted this for so long, please Sherlock.” I knew my god given puppy dog eyes would help me out eventually. I gave him my best cocky grin and slowly laid him back against the pillows.

 

He was very apprehensive but obviously aroused at my slight pleading and overwhelming need for him. So he gave in and relaxed, lying back on my soft bed as I got up and gathered the needed supplies.

 

I reach in the bedside table and pulled out a condom, lube and a few pieces of hard candy. Unwrapping one of the candy orbs I seductively placed it on my tongue, and then deeply kissed Sherlock. He tasted that sweet candy as it slid from my tongue to his and I pulled back. “You need to keep your strength up; I know how well you tend to eat when you have an obsession brewing”. Grabbing another candy, I got up and went into the kitchen. Gathering a few flannels and a large bowl of hot water, I returned to see Sherlock lazily stroking his manhood, watching me as I walked around the bed and sat in front of him. He was absolutely breathtaking, lying on my bed, softly touching himself, trying so hard to deduce what my plans were. Sliding the candy to his cheek, he says “that was thoughtful, now we don’t have to get up when we are done, but I hope you don’t expect that water to be hot by the time we are finished … I plan to take my time with you.”

 

A quick tremble as my cock jumps and my muscles tighten at the thought of him slowly unraveling me reaches my whole body. Clearing my throat a few times,” um … no … that’s not what the water is for”. Dropping one of the flannels and the bottle of lube into the steaming water, I slid the bowl to the foot of the bed, and laid back. Spreading my legs around him again, I propped myself up on a pillow and grabbed my waning prick. Sherlock seemed stunned, but just sat there watching me slowly sucking on the candy as I massaged my aching cock, bringing it back to full attention. Throwing in a few throaty moans as I noticed the more I got onto it, the more Sherlock’s manhood seemed to enjoy it. Grabbing the lube I poured some in my left hand, sliding the now deliciously hot lube onto my cock then down between my legs. Sherlock’s eye lids became heavy and oh, so arousing, watching as I slowly fuck myself. Throwing my head back at his reaction to me, I moaned his name. Quickly shoving two slick fingers deep into my tight arse I lifted my head and looked right into his eyes. His beautiful lips were parted, breathing heavily, and he was stroking his cock with much more abandon. Stopping the torture of my needy flesh I reached into the bowl and wrung out one of the flannels, rolling it up, I immediately pressed the hot fabric against my arse. Moaning at the heat and how relaxing and yet very arousing it felt, I looked at Sherlock.

 

“Genius” he said with only a small hint of sarcasm, before jumping on top of me. Our kisses became primal, not so much a meeting of lips as a battle of need. His sharp tongue dove deep into my mouth, writhing and sliding across mine. His hips ground down into me, pressing our hot pricks tight together. Grinding and kissing, the room was filled with the sounds of our pleasure and agony. I wanted him in me, _now_ I couldn’t wait any more. I pushed Sherlock up on his knees removing the condom from its packaging and slowly slid in onto his perfect cock. Laying back I removed the towel from between my legs, added more lube and slowly pushed my middle finger deep into my arse. Much easier to stretch now that I’ve been warmed up, I was able to concentrate fully on the feeling of my calloused finger rubbing against the hot walls of my needy arse.

 

Sherlock is shaking slightly, gripping his heavy cock watching as I fully prepare myself for that beautiful man. “God … Greg … I … “with a very arousing growl he lunges against me, pulling my hand away from my pleasure and laying on top of me. Spreading his legs between mine; pushing my knees far apart, I could feel his heavy cock pressing against mine as he ground down on me. “If you need me to stop Greg …” Looking into those beautiful eyes I saw a softness there that I wasn’t prepared for. Our bodies were lost amongst our lust and desire for each other, but amidst the fog, his gaze drove straight to my heart.  Putting one hand to his cheek i was in complete awe of this man. This callous, cold soul who could turn his emotions off easier than most people could turn their heads, and he was this concerned about hurting me. I gathered that his concern wasn’t just centered on the physical pain this may cause me, but that the pain could damage this … _relationship_ … that we may be forming. He was more amazing than even I gave him credit for. I wrapped my legs around his waist and slowly pulled him tighter against me. “Go on, you won’t hurt me Sherlock, trust m— … oooh holy … _HELL_!”

 

Frozen Sherlock just hovered outside my body, I was a mess and the man hadn’t even breached my body yet. Just feeling that hot pressure, and seeing his look of arousing determination was enough to nearly do me in! This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Smiling up at him I breathlessly mutter, “Sorry, that felt really fucking good …” I felt like such a child, but I didn’t want him to think my exclamation was out of pain or anguish. Relaxing a bit, I open up for him as he gives me his wicked grin and deep sensuous moan while pushing further in. I felt when that fat head popped just inside my body, at that very moment my whole being began to tremble. With each passing second, he inched further and further into my lust wrecked body. I was a jumble of incoherent words and lust fueled groans and growls. In a moment of clarity, I glanced between our bodies just enough to see that he was nowhere near close enough to warrant the fullness I felt. Well Lestrade…you wanted this…now you’ve got it. Taking a second to really bask in that thought I smiled and moaned in delight. Sherlock saw the look of course and distracted just enough, he slid faster into me. “Ooooh GOOOOOD SSHERLOCK!!!! FUCK!” that was quite possibly the best feeling I had ever experienced, I need more, I needed him deep inside me, pressed against me. Wrapping my legs around him tightly I grabbed his biceps and at the same time, pulled him towards me and knocked his arms from under him. The result was _exquisite_! As he fell his look of shock and terror was quickly washed away with unbridled desire. His eyes darkened and just before his head landed on my shoulder the growl his body released damn near made me come all over myself. Coupled with his terribly large cock now shoved nearly to the hilt I was nearly done for. But _holy shit_ …this man felt incredible!

 

“Lestrade … That … was …. Stupid! You are going to hurt so much tomorrow … “as he rose up on his elbows he looked at my face, which showed no pain, anguish or discernible negativity what so ever. I wasn’t hiding the pain, there simply wasn’t any. Yes he was big, yes my arse wasn’t. But the preparation did the trick, “no worries mate”… taking him into a deep kiss, his body began to pull out and then grind deeper. Moaning into each other we became personified pleasure. His hands were on my neck or in my hair; his mouth was everywhere it could reach while his hips slowly began to drive that beautiful cock right into my prostate. It was like a bug bite you scratch with your knuckles to avoid a scar, it was doing the trick, but God _help me_ , I wanted this man to fuck me in every sense of the word.

 

“Sherlock … please … harder … FUCK … “I could feel his heavy breath on my ear, sweet cinnamon and Sherlock as he laughed. Wrapping his arms under my shoulders, he drove his hot tongue into my moaning mouth. Kissing me with all the passion he had been holding in for however long, I was putty in his arms. He began to pick up the pace, snapping his hips harder and harder against me; driving that thick prick deeper and faster into my trembling body. The pressure of his torso against mine was a wonderful trap for my leaking member. Crushed between his soft smooth skin and my hard pelvic bone, the flesh of my cock was pulled and stretched beautifully, in perfect rhythm with his powerful thrusts.

 

Our moans and screams slowly became louder and more frantic as we writhed and rocked with each other. “Oh God _Greg_ … you are so fucking beautiful like this …” his breathy groan of my name caused the wonderful orgasmic burn to begin in my groin. “Ooooh fuck! Sherlock… come for me …. I want to feel you come deep inside me, pressing against my body ….” As he drove deep into me my cock finally began to feel the release I so craved, but I wanted so much to see Sherlock undone before me, inside me… on top of me. Trying like hell to hold off on the orgasm I knew would tear through me, I clenched my muscles and milked Sherlock’s heavy cock for all I was worth. He abruptly rose up on his hands, and looked deep into my eyes, stopping all movement, as I continued to grip his manhood from inside me I could feel him begin to swell. Without breaking our gaze I reached down and tugged my prick once from root to tip firmly. That beautiful crease between his eye brows, his dancing eyes and that perfect mouth all came together in the most beautiful orgasm I had ever seen.  “Hhnng GREG! Oh…oh _FUCK_ … OHGODOhGod _OhGod_ ….. “His hips jutted forward just enough to hit my prostate and immediately my screams were joining his. Gripping him with my legs and arms, I held on to him as tightly as I could. “ _Holy_ FUCK Sherlock! _Yes! yesyesyesyesyes_! OH GOD!  Loud and throaty we were both locked in each other’s eyes as we rode through our climaxes.

 

I have never had a climax that was quite as powerful as it was with Sherlock, his body filled me so completely, I felt like _this_ is what sex is supposed to feel like, and _this_ is exactly what I have been missing! It was somewhat disconcerting coming with those beautiful eyes boring into mine, but seeing the passion and fire that lingered behind those dancing pools was … the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Collapsing on top of me, both of our bodies were trembling and clutching to each other as tightly as possible. I could feel the sweat dripping off of his skin as he rose up and kissed me so deeply and with more passion than I can even describe. I felt every part of him in that kiss, his hands on my face, his lips pressed perfectly against mine as our tongues twisted together. We were both so hot and out of breath, the kiss was short lived. As he went to slide out of me, I pulled him close to me once again. His body lying beside me on his front, but his right arm and head were thrown across my chest. Trying to catch our breath and slow our racing heart beats I noticed that we were still shaking. Thinking it to be a chill from our cooling sweat, I flipped the blanket up over us, and turned my body so we were laying side by side, wrapping my arm underneath him. “God Sherlock … You are absolutely gorgeous like this … no manic thoughts or obsessive concerns weighing you down … you look completely at peace.” Leaning to kiss his cheek I felt hot moisture dripping from his cheekbones onto my dry lips. Realizing that this situation was more than likely too much for his mind to wrap around, I did the only thing I knew how. I wrapped every part of me around his trembling body, kissed his lips softly and cradled his head. “Shh love, its real, I’m right here, I’ve got you Sherlock”. Gripping me tighter to him, I could feel the shudders subside as he relaxed into my arms. In a voice I could barely hear Sherlock breathlessly said, “Greg … it _is_ real … it was _always_ you … I lo –“

 

“Hush love … tell me tomorrow”


End file.
